


Carried Home

by samidha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But this isn't a horrible fic, Gen, I am not good at writing Castiel, I really hate writing Castiel, Sam and Dean are soulmates, Sam's soul, Season/Series 06, Soulmates, Usually a Castiel free zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 18:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Dean finds something out about Castiel and decides to use it to help Sam.





	Carried Home

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading lots of my old stuff. Not literally all, but lots. Some of it may be lost in translation, I'm not sure. Not going back into it to fix it. Definitely from the "of course I would write this" files. Don't tell me I never gave you any random Cas. ;)

The basement was dank and dark, the only light filtering in between the blades of the fan as it slowly, creakily spun. Sam lay on the bare cot, silent and still after another random grand mal that started in the middle of Sam eating a bowl of Dean’s pasta, so that he very nearly choked on his fork as another brick came down from the wall or whatever the fuck was really happening. Dean had lunged across the table, pulling the fork free just before Sam’s teeth clenched around it and drove the tines into the roof of Sam’s mouth. Bobby and Dean had gotten Sam to the floor and stood guard until the convulsions had passed, then lifted him and brought him very slowly down the stairs and to the cot.

Then Dean settled Indian-style on the floor, his eyes trained right on Sam as he prayed.

”Cas... I know you’re in the thick of things but I just-- I could really use a little-- Sam could use a little help right now.”

Silence settled thick around them and Dean balled his hands into fists, nails digging hard into his palms and his knuckles going white. He had just opened his mouth to call again when he heard the soft flutter of wings.

”What is it that you require?” Cas asked, his tone grim.

”Cas. Show me how you do it.”

”What are you referring to?” Cas asked.

”Show me how you do this... soul thing. It’s like the grabbing thing you did before, right? On Aaron Birch?”

”I would advise against--”

Dean stood and crowded all the way into the angel’s space, grabbing him by the shoulder. ”Look. I’m not asking.”

”Dean, you cannot expect me to reveal--”

He pushed Castiel up against the wall, his heartbeat hard and fast in his ears. ”Cas, I can’t take it. I can’t take this shit. You don’t-- I just, I _can’t_. He just had another seizure. Nothing was happening, _nothing_ , and he just--”

Castiel’s face hardened. ”I told you. His soul was flayed alive.”

”Then you have to let me-- You have to help me help him. Please, Cas. Castiel. I’m beggin’ you, here. Just show me how to get in there and I swear-- It’ll work.” _Because it has to. Because-- It_ has _to._

”Dean, you do not have a grace. You--”

”So I’ll ride yours. Whatever. Come on, Cas.”

The angel sighed. ”This will be damaging to you.”

”It’s worth it,” Dean said without hesitating for a second.

”Do you think Sam would agree?”

”He damn well will when he-- Yes.”

”I have never attempted this before,” Castiel admitted. ”You wish for me to...splice a piece of your soul to his, so that his may heal?”

”That’s it.”

”This is extremely non-trivial, Dean.”

”Yeah, well, he’s-- He’s Sam.”

”Yes. He is... quite special.”

”So let’s do this. You just get me there. Just get me there.”

Castiel sighed. He reached out with one hand but stopped himself, shaking his head. ”This is... crazy,” he said haltingly, like he’s tasting the words for the first time. ”Even for the both of you.”

”Look. Someone told me once-- Sam and me--” Dean bit back his reply. ”You wouldn’t understand, Cas, but just try and pretend you do. Now fist my goddamn soul already before I chicken out.”

”I’ve been trying to tell you... chickening out... is no sin, Dean.”

”Yeah, well it doesn’t help me with the Great Wall of Sam, okay? Now, _do this_.”

Castiel reached, his hand finding purchase so deep inside of him it’s like he busted through his ribs, cupping his heart in his hands. The world was fire, every molecule of him ripped from its place and left floating free in a sea of _wrong_. He expected memories to fly past his awareness, his life flashing before his eyes, but it was nothing like that, it was flesh and _beingness_ ripped away, the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life. It was falling into a dark hole, it was _losing_ himself. Like memories ripping free and simply disappearing. Like he was shrinking under the weight of loss. And then. And then.

_Dean?_

And then Sam’s voice. Sam’s beautiful, amazing voice, right there with him. Proof that Sam was here, that he was going to come back. Wasn’t he?

He was just on the edge of passing out. He was about to lose his grip. But everything was all right. Sam was here. Sam was really here again and they were going to be fi--

And then they fell.

He tumbled and tumbled down and down, scrabbling for purchase, arms flailing wildly. He felt the moment when their souls connected, sending electric shock through him, whip-lash as millions of molecules realigned themselves. He tried to aim up. Up and away. But they just fell and fell, endless darkness and cold, cold so bitter they should have been going numb but there was no such relief. There was no ground to hit, only an endless open space. Time had left them, too. But he knew. He knew the freezing cold of Lucifer, the endless ache of it. 

He opened his eyes, strained in the dark, and suddenly there was a light, a pulsing light, flickering from mottled gold to white and back and he knew without a doubt he was seeing what he came here to save, what he risked it all to heal.

_Sammy._

_Dean?_

_Right here. Got you._

_Shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be. Or..._

_But I am_ , Dean said firmly.

_Not real. Can’t be real._

_I came to get you. I got you, Sammy._

_It’s a lie. He’s-- So many times, Dean._ Sam’s voice was suddenly filled with terror and he ached to take it away. 

_Didn’t you feel it, Sammy? When I got here?_

He was met with silence, and a whispered truth that he barely heard, _Yes._

Dean spread himself wide, through the darkness and covered over the pulsing soul with his own energy, all the thousands of jagged pieces digging into him like the finest blades, but it was nothing he hadn’t felt before, it was nothing and it was for Sam. _Sammy? You feel me now?_

 _Yes. Oh, God,_ Dean. _It’s you._

Dean braced himself through the endless burn of it, strips of his very _self_ ripping free to coat the thousands of pock marks and tears in the fabric of his brother. He closed his eyes and rode out the memories of Lucifer’s endless cold, Michael’s endless, endless heat. Sam shook against him, jarring more of him loose, an endless stream of bits and pieces.

Dean didn’t know what he was losing, but it didn’t matter, it would never matter again. Finally the world was simple. He had come to Sam and Sam was healing, he was sure of it. Finally he could share in Sam’s burdens, all the fear and misery covered over and _blending_. He saw himself with a knife, a knife embodying the powers of hell, that could cut soul deep, and he stood between Sam and the archangels, daring either of them to come under his blade as he cradled Sam against himself.

Whatever happened then would be worth everything. He took Sam’s fear and he covered it over with all of his certainty, all of his love, all of _himself_. Brother. Hunter. Apprentice. Winchester.

And with every second that passed he felt Sam growing stronger, burrowed inside of Dean now and taking what Dean rightfully gave.

 _They’re only memories, Sammy,_ Dean said, and he felt a burst of happiness vibrating into the very core of him, because Sam knew.

 _Take me home, Dean_ , Sam said, and his voice carried no doubt that Dean could.


End file.
